


The Truck

by GhostGarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 14:46:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1351360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostGarrison/pseuds/GhostGarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny’s truck is the oldest fucking thing on this planet, not to mention beaten halfway to hell and rusted to the point that you can barely tell it was originally blue. Despite thinking that it should go to the nearest scrapyard to be stripped for parts, Dean still feels it suits Benny perfectly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Truck

Benny’s truck is the oldest fucking thing on this planet, not to mention beaten halfway to hell and rusted to the point that you can barely tell it was originally blue. Despite thinking that it should go to the nearest scrapyard to be stripped for parts, Dean still feels it suits Benny perfectly. 

In fact, the damn thing is forever ingrained in Dean’s mind as part of Benny’s identity, a part of Benny that would probably be sorely missed if it ever broke down. Not like it ever would, since Dean tries to keep it up and running with constant repairs whenever his boyfriend calls him.

Dean can’t stop thinking about Benny when he sees the same make and model on the highway between the garage and Benny’s diner. Every single time, it makes his head whip round, mind immediately flashing to large hands and a rough southern twang that he equates with the driver of said truck.

Despite having told Benny to scrap it or at least let Dean restore it to something bearable for his inner-mechanic, the truck worms its way into Dean’s heart permanently the night when Benny shows up at his house unannounced.

He leads Dean into the cab of the truck, not telling him where they’re going or why they’re going. It could be a new bar, Dean thinks, or a new diner somewhere. Their dates usually consist of something having to do with food and alcohol, as Benny is a bit of a hometown food aficionado and Dean loves a good chow session no matter where they are.

Dean’s predictions prove false when Benny pulls off the two-lane highway onto a dirt road, hidden between some trees and juste barely marked with a degrading wooden stake. The road is bumpy as fuck and the truck rolls and jumps with every rock and hole they hit; Dean adds ‘shocks’ to his mental list of things he’ll have to beg Benny to let him replace.

He doesn’t know where they’re going now and the sky is getting darker and darker. The truck’s dim headlights barely light up the road, just wide enough to let branches of the trees brush across the windows and doors.

"Where the fuck are we?" Dean asks, holding onto the door’s handle as they go flying over a rock or something.

"Patience, darlin’." Benny grins as he grips the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the treacherous road. "Gotta have patience."

Dean holds on for dear life, vowing to change out the trucks headlights, brakes, and shocks as soon as he possibly can. Benny must know where he’s going, as there’s no uncertainty in the path they’re taking through the dark forest.

Soon enough, the truck pulls into a clearing, an oval shaped grassy area where the trees have been previously cleared away. Benny puts it in park and jumps out after opening the squeakiest carder Dean’s ever heard. ‘WD-40’ is added to the repair list.

Dean follows suit, getting out of the truck and following Benny to the back. He’s about to ask what the hell is going on but is promptly stopped when his boyfriend unlatches the door to the flatbed. Dean’s eye catches on a layer of old blankets filling the trunk, piled high and thick with a few pillows tossed in.

Benny flashes him a grin, jumping up to sit in the flatbed before patting the blankets beside him.

They spend the rest of the evening laying on the blankets, curled against each other as they look up at the stars that freckle the sky, fighting off the rapidly-cooling night air by scooting closer and closer.

So yeah, Benny’s truck has its downfalls, and yeah, Dean can feel the harsh ridges of the truckbed’s plastic liner through the thin blankets, but he would never trade it for anything in the world.


End file.
